


A Proposition of Sorts

by Mythril Whisper (DragonForgedXiX)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Naked Cuddling, Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24772816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonForgedXiX/pseuds/Mythril%20Whisper
Summary: So... this is my first ever time writing anything of a Final Fantasy nature, and my first time writing in SO long... I hope that you enjoy; I'm not sure if it's just a one-shot or if there's going to be more between my OC Warrior of Light; Mythril Whisper, and Zenos yae Galvus respectively, but I HAVE had various ideas for fics to write. If you've enjoyed this piece, then please do let me know and I'll see about writing more!This was basically just a self-indulgent piece of smut writing, there wasn't really a set place/timeline for where this took place. I'd say just assume sometime after the incident at Rhalgr's Reach?
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	A Proposition of Sorts

Smoke... choking, blinding... where did it come from...? Such concerns became a distant memory, fragmented by the alternating drifting into consciousness then back again... Mythril Whisper, the hero of Eorzea, the Warrior of Light, Warrior of Darkness and whatever other title she had come to acquire during her adventures across and throughout the lands shifted weakly, her head spinning with the ferocity of distant cannonfire.

  
The memories of what had transpired were lost on the Miqo'te woman as her senses slowly regained themselves. She knew not how long she had been unconscious, nor where she was, save for the fact that the room she occupied evidently belonged to... someone... important.

  
The walls were a cement grey and the room was furnished with likewise dark furniture. The discovery of the bed the woman was upon gave away the personal sleeping chambers of someone, and her blurred vision came to focus at the opposite end of the room where a roaring hearth heated the quarters quite nicely. Hanging above the fireplace was a portrait, and one that set the Miqo'te's teeth on edge... She knew where she was.

  
The Empire's headquarters in Garlemald... But who had sought fit to bring her here? Her answer was soon found sitting on the lavish armchair and her stomach dropped, a feeling of dread permeating her senses...

Zenos yae Galvus, the Crown Prince to the Empire, sat absent his usual Garlean armour, instead dressed in rather casual linens. A stark contrast to his otherwise bulky armoured frame, but he was still none the less intimidating, given his height alone...

Her rousal had seemingly gone unnoticed; the man was seated with his elbows to his knees, fingers interlaced as though deep in thought, his hauntingly blue eyes staring into the crimson embers that blazed in the hearth.  
Mythril took note of her parched throat first, the lack of saliva giving her a sharp desire to cough, but the woman fought it back; the last thing she had wanted, knowing whose presence she occupied, was to alert him to her awakening.

As wishful as she had been that Hydaelyn had heard her prayer, it had gone unanswered as Zenos slowly straightened himself, raising his head with a smirk that the Miqo'te had no choice but to miss...

"Ah, so you finally awaken..." Zenos began, turning his head slowly to regard the woman occupying his bed.  
"Wh... what have you done to me?" Mythril retorted, the venom in her voice betraying her immediate distrust of the man she now faced, solely alone.  
A look of indifference crossed the man's face, as handsome as it was, and Zenos stood from his seat, his eyes meeting hers, daringly.  
"Done?" He asked, an edge to his tone that the woman found herself daring not cross...

The Garlean moved then, taking slow paces to the large window that occupied much of the center of one wall, his hands coming to clasp behind his back, taking his time to answer. After all... she was his prey. To answer her immediately would ruin the hunt, the chase he sought.

"I've done nothing to you, _friend_."  
 _Friend_... how she wanted to recoil from such a word from his lips. Mythril stifled her sneer, loathing herself to admit that, indeed, she seemed to be no worse for wear. Her attire, while not on her person, had been laundered and folded, she could see them atop a nearby dresser. The linen night dress she currently wore covered her accordingly, and save for the pounding migraine, she found herself to be largely unharmed.

"Alright... why am I here, of all places?" try as she might, she couldn't shake the unease in her voice, and Zenos canted his head, turning his eyes from the window to meet hers, and the man moved then to stand at the edge of the bed, much closer than he had been... If Mythril hadn't been afraid before, she certainly felt the pang of it hitting her heart at this point in time. Without a weapon, and faced with a man that tormented and terrified many innocents for sport, it was all she could do to not tremble before him.

"I saw an opportunity, my beast. And I took it." he offered her another smirk, nearly reveling in her utter confusion as the Miqo'te sat there, racking her mind to make sense of her current situation.  
"Worry not, little one; I've a proposition for you..." Now that... piqued her interest.

An ear flicked, and Mythril drew her knees close to her chest, her rose-coloured eyes meeting Zenos's warily, her tail tucking around her feet as she stared at him. By the Twelve, if he hadn't been such a demon to face off against, she could have lost herself entirely in his eyes and features alone.  
"A proposition?" she repeated, and Zenos afforded her a nod, bringing a hand to sit on his hip. _Arrogant bastard_... she thought to herself.

"Yes. While I have enjoyed our exchanges and measuring your ferocity as a beast on the hunt, I yearn for more..." Zenos breathed, as though he were tired of the whole thing. She knew better...   
"I yearn... for what every top predator ultimately seeks. Dominance over all his prey and hunting grounds."

There it was. But it was a vague claim. Against her better judgment, Mythril turned her head slightly, her eyes still trained on Zenos's body, watching for any move he might make. Exhausted and weak, she might have been. But she was still quick as... well, a cat...

"You expect me to submit to you? Are you mad?!" the Miqo'te boomed, her voice louder than she had intended, but that only served to amuse the Garlean prince before her.  
"Expectations are for those who blindly follow a strict system... I, however, follow the path of a true hunter... I make it a point to learn what I hunt, discover its traits, its habits. Its needs." it was at that point that Mythril had noticed Zenos's sudden but gradual approach. He had taken to placing his hands at the edge of the bed, slowly advancing upon her during their exchange, and was now close enough to just grab her, should the desire take him.

There were several long moments that she was silent, still, just staring into his eyes with a mix of confusion and unease, his beautiful, sapphire eyes returning her gaze with confidence and a lack of blinking... his dominant trait.  
For the longest of those moments, nothing happened, but when it did, it came swiftly and Mythril lost herself to the sudden motion of it all...

In an instant, he was on her, a hand clasped around her throat. Squeezing, but not to kill... the sheer strength he displayed, the speed and confidence he carried himself with, Mythril admitted that perhaps he was, indeed, the alpha he claimed to be. A shuddering breath escaped her, and Zenos regarded her with little more than a rather blank look upon his face.

"But to take you like this," his eyes ran over her form, gesturing to the point he was making before releasing her throat, retreating his presence from her and allowing Mythril to sit up once more. Her breath shook, her chest quivered with an unsettled nervousness she hadn't felt in... years.  
"It would be too easy. Stand up."

His command, while simple, was short, and Mythril swung her legs to the edge of the bed, the quake in her limbs causing a visible tremor and Zenos offered a deep chuckle in his throat.  
"Is that all it took to win you over, my pet? To cause you to submit to me?"

She answered with nothing, and while she hated the idea of taking orders from him, if she had any hopes of surviving whatever Zenos may have planned for her, the Miqo'te felt it to be in her best interest to play along, to behave. Standing from the edge of the bed, she took a couple of steps until she faced the same wall at which the head of the bed sat. A mirror that had escaped her notice gave her a full view of herself, dressed in similar linens as that of Zenos' own, and it was then she noticed the man behind her...

He was tall enough to have his face almost entirely blocked from the view, and he took a step forth until Mythril could feel his very presence at her back, but not quite touching her. She was shivering now, hating herself for showing such weakness, but yet... also anticipating what his plans might just have been...

"Stand still..." came a deep whisper to her ear, followed by the sensation of teeth nibbling at the tip, a shuddering gasp escaping the Miqo'te's lips. Zenos's right hand came then, snaking around her throat once more, a little tighter this time while his left hand took to the strand of cloth that kept Mythril's Gyr Abanian braid in place, unraveling and allowing the silver-sapphire strands to fall in entirety around her shoulders and back...

No words were exchanged for the time being, and Mythril stammered for her breath as Zenos's fingers then came to pull at the lace holding her linens to her body. She watched, feeling herself quiver with an eagerness she hadn't felt for so long, as her clothing fell from her form...  
Instinctively, her hands came to shield her body, one crossing her breasts and the other covering her nether region.  
A firmer grip came to her throat, and Mythril cried out as her eyes clamped shut, the teeth returning to her ear but only to bite. Hard.

"Move them." came the growl of the Garlean's voice, and the Miqo'te quietly obeyed, her arms moving to hang limp at her sides, her fists clenching somewhat as Zenos's eyes roamed over her frame. His hand then came again, snaking slowly over her hip and his thumb kneaded at the slope there, earning a staggered step.

A deep chuckle came, her ear still held hostage in his lips, and Zenos released her after a moment, his hand leaving her neck to grip her shoulder instead.  
"Good girl... Taming any beast begins with simply asserting one's dominance... now..." his eyes then returned to the large bed, and his hand gave a firm push of her shoulder towards it.  
"Lie down. On your back."

There was a pause, a hesitation as Mythril took into consideration the predicament she was in. If Zenos had wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. But this was... entirely unprecedented behaviour...  
" _Now_." the man commanded, his voice low, warning... Mythril found it within herself to return to the soft mattress, clenching her jaw to prevent the chattering of her teeth as her nerves took over.

Zenos took his time in shedding the cloth shirt, discarding it carelessly to the floor as he took a step forth, his eyes meeting hers, demanding that she kept his gaze, his fingers coming then to unlace and lower his slacks. Mythril's eyes remained locked with his, taking in the sheer stature of the brute before her, and there was something primal within her that left her... wanting...  
Approaching her as he had before; slow and deliberate, the Garlean prince crawled atop the bed to his quarry who found herself leaning back from his advance, and Mythril sucked in a breath as Zenos's face came to be mere inches from her own.

She could taste his breath, inhale his scent. And he reeked of confidence, of strength, not to mention a musky fragrance he'd no doubt applied to himself to heighten his appeal. Finding the strength to swallow, Mythril shuddered as a firm hand gripped her hip, a muscle-bound thigh pressed between hers, and she gasped as that free hand took her by the chin and he pressed his lips to hers.

It was odd to think that his skin was as soft as it was, given how active he was in the battlefield, and the Miqo'te released a long-since-held breath, her eyes closing under the administrations of the other set of lips working her own. For a split second, the woman had begun to return the favour, pausing only to gasp as the fingers holding her chin delved low to grip and knead at the pert flesh of her breast.

His hands were large, as was the rest of him, true, but he dwarfed her in entirety, and Mythril moaned softly as the pleasure slowly began to take hold of her, her quivering thighs parting to allow Zenos' knee further against her. As soon as the Miqo'te reciprocated him, Zenos pushed his tongue into her lips, a low chuckle rumbling deep in his breast as the girl's own tongue attempted to fight back for dominance against his own.

_Laughable, little pet_... the Garlean man mused to himself, his blonde locks of hair cascading over his back and shoulders like a curtain. Breaking away from the girl's lips, Zenos growled deep, his eyes holding a primal stare, a hand moving to rest at her inner thigh. There, he could feel the heat of her aroused state, and Zenos growled again, predatory, hungry...  
He brought the tip of his fingers to lightly tease and caress the sensitive cluster of nerves, his eyes never leaving the Miqo'te's rosey set before him as the girl gasped, her hands instinctively coming to grip at his shoulders.

She could push him away, scratch him with her claws, but... Mythril found herself incapacitated to do much against him, save for gasp, to moan, to arch against his fingertip as it slid lower until it found the target it sought... Zenos locked eyes with the woman in his hold, his lips pulled into a proud smirk, and he dipped a finger in. Unlike most men of the average variety, Zenos's fingers were thicker, stronger and longer and so it was no surprise that he found that sweet-spot that every man coveted, but few could find without help.

As soon as his finger had hit, the woman tossed her head back with a throaty moan, her claws now gripping into the flesh of his shoulders, trickling rivulets of blood beginning to form thin streams down his biceps, though he seemed to not notice, nor mind...  
Her body responded accordingly, much to a degree that seemed to please Zenos enough that he added a second finger, pumping them slowly within her and relishing the ecstacy that crossed her crimson-flushed cheeks.  
"My, my... The doe is imobilized by the buck's strength, is she?" the Garlean gloated, and Mythril's pleasured features, for a split second, contorted to a sneer though it didn't last long as a particularly powerful thrust and pump of those digits sent her into a convulsion of pleasure.  
"By... t-the Twelve...!" Mythril rasped between clenched teeth, riding out the waves of her first orgasm, and Zenos took it as sufficient conditioning, as it were, and removed his fingers. He inspected the fluids, glistening in the light, and then... he inhaled. The scent of her aroused sex and the first offering of her orgasm was all that Zenos needed, and he brought his hand between his own thighs...

The man took himself into his palm, his girthy manhood coming to life as he coated himself with the offered fluids from the Miqo'te beneath him, and Zenos pumped his organ a number of times before his free hand came to the girl's hip again, placing himself to where she could feel the thick head of his shaft, the uncircumsized head peeled free of its hood of foreskin, and the prince locked eyes with her once more.  
"Relax." he demanded, though it was of a gentler tone this time.

Mythril bit her lip, hard, as the thick girth of the man above her pushed into her depths. True, he was slow, and true, he was allowing her to adjust accordingly, but... why? Why be gentle and tender in what could quite possibly be perceived as the most base of all instincts and needs of every living, breathing thing? Pushing such thoughts from her mind, the woman gasped out as Zenos hilted himself as far as her body would allow, and the man released a long sigh. Satisfaction...? Really? she thought to herself, and almost as soon as he'd ceased his advance into her, Zenos began to withdraw. And from there, it began...

A ceaseless torrent of pleasure, each thrust, each draw back was slow, deliberate, earning moan after moan of approval from the Miqo'te, and Zenos, drunk on it all, obliged the woman quite happily. According to his plan, at least. His pace was consistent, and the fingers that had dug into his shoulders, clinging for dear life had come to now smooth over the expanse of his well-muscled chest. The pectorals rippled under her fingers and the exertions he put upon himself, her body jarring with each thrust, and Zenos chuckled deep as his eyes met hers once again.

"You appear to be enjoying yourself, little one. This pleases me." he commented, rewarding the mewling Miqo'te with a quick and sudden thrust, changing the pace and effort just a touch. The difference, ah, it was noticeable... Stronger, faster, and Mythril threw her head back to moan out loud, Zenos's hand then coming to settle at her throat, gripping as his lips came to ensnare hers.  
Floods of pleasure washed over the woman, and each time Zenos stroked deep within her, her body responded accordingly and released her fluids to him, waves of orgasm robbing her of her senses until it was all she could do but moan.

"Z... Zen...os!" she gasped out between the kisses he stole from her, and the man above ground into her several more strokes until he paused, his own chest heaving with some effort in his work, the smirk plastered to his lips beaming with ecstacy in his own exertions.  
"Yes, my prey?" Zenos panted against her lips, breath hot against her skin and he was rewarded with quivering thighs hugging his hips, the woman beneath him wrapping her legs around his back.

_More... More, I want more!_ Mythril wanted to scream, but the pace he set jarred each breath from her lungs, stealing her words as Zenos thrusted into her without abandon.  
"M-More!" came a strangled cry, and the Garlean released the woman's throat to allow her head to fall to one side, mouth agape with the evidence of her pleasure spilling into the room. His hand returned to the bed, to steady himself and hold up his weight. If he'd wanted to, he could crush her with his own torso... But instead, at her request, the man obliged.

"Very well..." he breathed, the hand long since forgotten that had been gripping her hip snaking up to cup a breast, rolling the mound with experience one might have not expected from a man raised in war. The shudders beneath him rewarded the girthy flesh between his thighs with another flood of orgasm.

_There... now, it's time..._ Zenos mused to himself, smirking as he brought all he could to bear; his hips slammed into her, now, grinding mercilessly as the promise of sexual release welled up within him, too. The next few moments were intense, but over in almost no time, with Mythril crying out even louder than she had before, the bed beneath the two of them creaking with the speed and weight that Zenos put into bearing down on her, his own voice passing his lips as feverish grunts and pants, and he felt his impending release fast approaching.

Moving his hands, the prince took Mythril by her hips, pinning her in place as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, the tightness of the woman's walls squeezing and massaging him, coaxing his seed to spill.

When the prince's jerking convulsions had ceased, he remained still for several moments as though to process what had just happened. Though before too long, he rolled himself over, collapsing to his side as his breathing returned to a normal pace. The woman beside him stared to the ceiling, unable to blink away the stars that had begun to dot her vision, and Mythril snapped from her daze as Zenos's fingers began a slow and lazy trail up over her stomach.

"... Really...?" she quipped, bringing her own hand to shove his away. The Garlean retreated, a blonde brow perking at her comment and action before that wry smirk found his lips again.  
"You did well, my beast." Zenos moved again, this time bringing his arm to Mythril's waist, and before the woman could protest, he pulled her tight against him.

The Miqo'te suddenly found herself very warm, and it was at that moment she realized her cheeks were crimson. She still lay on her back, but now her shoulder and side were pressed against Zenos's muscular chest and abdomen. Her mind spun with uncertainty; mostly filled with questions as to what, exactly, Zenos had wanted with her.  
If it were simply for sex, he didn't have to distract the Alliance to kidnap her... Her chest heaved, almost afraid to move, and she made the slightest of noises when she felt a weight atop her head.

Zenos had put his chin atop her silver-sapphire hair, his strong right arm pulled over her chest and under her arm. Mythril's hand rested awkwardly atop his forearm, feeling the residue of sweat on his flesh. Her thighs remained slightly spread, and the ache of having Zenos' hips between them had begun to set in. She could feel the steady pool of his seed leak from her, combined with her own evidence of orgasm, and the cooling mixture reminded her just how much she needed to move her tail.

It had been so still during their... coupling that she had neglected moving it at all. A single flick came, and the tuft of fur at its tip brushed against one of Zenos' thighs, earning a short huff of a chuckle from above her head.

_What a time to discover you're Twelves-damned ticklish_... she pouted, shifting the rest of her body to release the tension that still gripped her. Mythril had contemplated making a break for it, but the arm that crossed her chest and held her tight quickly put a stop to that. As did the Crown Prince's voice as he spoke.  
"Do not think to escape, girl. I would bask in this most... fortuitous venture..."  
That was a first... Zenos had actually wanted to take a moment to rest. To recouperate... it certainly offered a side of him Mythril simply hadn't expected, but then again... after sex, didn't most people long to bask in the afterglow?

The more she thought on it, the more she came to realize that, while he were her enemy, perhaps she could indulge in a moment of rest, too. Satisfied with her own internal answer, Mythril offered little more than a quiet hum, turning to lie on her side so that her back pressed against his chest and stomach entirely, and her tail set to drape over his hip, offering the slightest of sways as the Warrior of Light drifted into what might have been her most peaceful sleep in years...


End file.
